Anders' Justice
by SoraStarkiller
Summary: Apart, Justice is a spirit fighting injustice and Anders a carefree smart ass. But together, Justice is vengeance and Anders is lost. This is the journey from their merging to the corruption that they cause in one another.


**Chapter I**

Justice was finding it harder to stay in the world of man now that he'd been freed from the prison of Kristoff's body. After seeing Kristoff's wife's pain at his use of the man's shell, Justice determined that once his quest with the Warden was completed, he would give the woman back her husband's body for burial. Without a body, without a host, the Fade's beckoning was too great. And yet, there was so much injustice left in the world; his job wasn't done. So he turned to his comrades, specifically to the one comrade who seemed to also have a duty to fight an injustice against his people; it was a cause most just, one Justice was more than willing to take up.

#

Anders yawned and stretched. The morning sun had risen and morning dew coated the grass. Ever since he'd joined the Wardens Anders' life had been looking up. No Templars chasing him, and no worries about being executed as an apostate. Yes, life was good. His expression soured when his gaze fell on his companions: Rolan and two other Wardens. Rolan particularly gave him the creeps. The man kept staring at him. Either Anders was sexier than he realized, or the Warden had a six-foot hole waiting somewhere. Anders eyed the sleeping Rolan suspiciously.

Getting to his feet, Anders stretched again and walked further south into the forest to relieve himself. Anders ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Just as he finished, a voice made him jump.

"Anders,"

Scrambling back, Anders whirled around, staff in hand. But there was no one there. His brow knit in confusion. Had he imagined it? "Hello?" He called out cautiously.

"I am glad to have found you, Anders."

He definitely hadn't imagined that. Still, he saw nothing. The voice didn't seem malicious and in some way it even sounded familiar. His blood turned to ice when he realized that whatever was talking to him might be from the Fade; it might be a demon. He may not have to worry about Templars, but as a mage the threat of demonic possession perpetually loomed overhead.

"It is . . ." the voice seemed to search for the right word, "exhausting, to stay corporal." There was a shimmer, an emanating blue light, then a spirit formed before him.

"Justice," Anders let out of breath of relief. Not a demon, just Justice. "Scared me there for a minute."

"You thought I was a demon," the spirit surmised.

"A worry any mage would have," he replied crossing his arms. "So . . ." Anders said after a moment, "How've you been? Last time I saw you, you were a rotting corpse."

"I returned Kristoff to his rightful place." Justice answered.

"Wife's teary eyes got to you then?" Anders grinned slyly, "And here I thought you didn't have feelings."

"It was the just thing to do." Justice pointed out. Anders rolled his eyes. "You were more difficult to find." He commented, "You were not at Vigil's Keep."

"Why were you looking for me?" Anders asked, ignoring the spirit's question. Justice hesitated, which made Anders raise an eyebrow. "Never seen you speechless," the spirit's silence worried him. "What's going on?"

"I will soon be unable to keep form in this world," Justice said at last. "Without a host, I will return to the Fade."

Anders blinked. "But why?" He hadn't thought a body was necessary for a spirit to manifest. "I mean, demons are—were—spirits, and they retain form without a host."

"Spirits are not demons." Justice growled. "And I do not pretend to know how they maintain physicality outside the Fade."

"Alright, alright," Anders raised his hands in mock surrender. "Touchy." Ander muttered. Justice was silent again, and Anders couldn't help but feel Justice was suddenly worried that he'd offended Anders. Clearly the spirit wanted something. But before he could ask, Justice spoke.

"I fear that if I cling to the world of man, I might be tainted." His voice was soft; it was startling. "There is such injustice still left in this world, so much that I wish . . . I desire to stay here."

His words hung in the air as Anders came to understand the spirit's meaning. Anders gave a short laugh despite the gravity of Justice's fear. "You don't honestly believe that such a desire would pervert you into a demon?" Justice's lack of response was answer enough. "That's ridiculous."

"Is it ridiculous for you to fear demonic possession?" Justice shot back.

"It's not . . ." Anders started, but then realized it really was the same, or similar enough. He rubbed his neck, suddenly feeling awkward. And yet . . . "But, why were you searching for _me_?"

"I will return to the Fade without a host." Justice repeated. Then it clicked.

"And you want to possess me?!" Anders gaped. "Now hold on a minute, why—"

"You have suffered a great injustice, and injustice is still being done to your people," Justice explained as though their merging was the most logical thing in the world.

"Not this again," Anders groaned.

"I could help you move beyond your weakness of apathy," Justice offered, and Anders couldn't suppress an eye roll.

"Trying to stay alive isn't a weakness!" Anders was beyond exasperated with the spirit. "And no offense, but I don't exactly fancy the idea of being possessed!" He had enough worry about demons fighting to get in, he wasn't about to just open the door for a spirit—especially one that moments ago admitted to fearing imminently becoming a demon.

"It would not be possession," Justice corrected, "You would merely be sharing a corner of your being with me."

"Well I don't fancy sharing my body with you either." Anders crossed his arms with finality. He half expected Justice to continue pressing him about 'struggling against his oppressors,' so he was surprised when there was no response. The spirit faded somewhat, but still remained. ". . . Justice?"

"I don't want to become a demon," the words were barely a whisper, and Anders almost didn't catch them. "But I don't want to return to the Fade…there's still so much left for me to do." There was such sorrow in his voice, and Anders was not unmoved; Anders' expression softened.

Anders couldn't help sympathizing with him; he certainly wouldn't be able to choose between becoming a demon, or spending eternity in the Fade. His jaw set and he clenched his fists. No, that wasn't a decision he would want to make, and it wasn't one he would force Justice to make either. Anders had always avoided danger, he certainly never went out of his way to help someone if death might be involved—unless, of course, his Warden led him—but here, there was no life threatening conclusion to helping Justice. This was something he could do. Anders sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Look, maybe . . ." Anders could almost feel Justice's swelling hope. "Maybe I could 'share' my body with you." He wondered if he would regret this. Maybe. Probably. "But only until you find someone else." Anders added quickly.

"I thank you, Anders." His sincerity made Anders wanted to groan, or maybe roll his eyes again. Still, what he was doing for Justice was rather generous.

"You owe me for this," Anders pointed out, "And I don't want to hear anything else about my 'apathy.'" Justice agreed, but Anders had a feeling the spirit would continue to speak his mind no matter what. "And you're sure this isn't a possession?" Anders asked suddenly feeling apprehensive. "I'll be the one in control, yes?"

"It will be as though nothing has changed," Justice confirmed. Anders scoffed at that.

"Except having your voice constantly in my ear you mean?" Anders shot back dryly. A thought struck him. "Would you . . . be able to hear my thoughts?"

"If you wish it I shall only listen when you call for me." Justice offered.

"Good." Anders was starting to feel a little squeamish now, as he considered what it would mean to share his body with Justice. Still, he supposed it was the right thing to do for a friend. They were friends . . . sort of. They'd faced battles together and kept one another alive. This was something Anders could do, something that didn't involve anything life threatening or even hard. So, fine, yes, Anders would do it. "Right. So, how do we do this then?"

"It won't take but a moment." Justice told him, and Anders could still hear the relief in the spirit's voice.

Justice's form blurred forming a misty blue light. It came at him then, and Anders instinctively took a step back, his eyes widening as the spirit invaded his body. His initial reaction was to fight against it, but he forced himself to relax—which was damned near impossible when his whole body was being invaded. Then it was done. An odd uncomfortable feeling ran through him, but other than that, he didn't feel any different. He was still him. A wave of relief washed over him, his apprehension mostly dissipating. But considering he felt mostly the same, he wondered if Justice was actually there.

"Did it work?" Anders asked aloud to the empty forest. He supposed it must have considering the way he felt, especially the now throbbing headache he was experiencing. It felt like he was going to burst open.

 ** _Indeed it did_**. Anders startled at the voice, partly because it was so sudden but largely because he didn't so much hear the words as much as they echoed in his mind.

"Well, alright then." Anders recovered, "Just keep an eye out for a host." He reminded the spirit.

 ** _Of course_**. Justice's words resounded once more. Anders turned back towards camp, assuming their conversation finished when Justice spoke once more, **_Thank you, Anders_**.

"Well, someone had to do it I suppose." Anders grumbled, "But you owe me for this."

 ** _Of course_**.

"A lot." He emphasized. As he approached camp he fell silent. Both his companions were awake. Rolan was eyeing him with suspicion. Again. There was no way he was telling the Wardens he'd accepted a spirit into himself. _That'd go over real well, probably earn me my very own noose. Just what I've always wanted_.

 ** _I was under the impression you preferred to stay breathing_**. Anders nearly jumped out of his skin.

"What the hell—" He cut himself off when his comrades looked over at him. He waived them off and set to packing up his bed roll. _You can hear me?_ Anders demanded. _I thought we discussed the topic of privacy_. He griped.

 ** _Your thoughts are loud and chaotic; it's hardly possible for me to not hear them_**. Justice countered, refusing to admit he'd broken their bargain. He could be right though, perhaps his thoughts were too loud. **_Indeed they are_**.

 _At least pretend you're not listening!_ Anders snapped. _And I thought having roommates was bad_.

 ** _If you so wish_**. Justice sniffed, obviously offended and annoyed. But so what? It was his body after all.

 _It is_. Anders shoved his roll into his pack and forcefully pulled the bag shut.

"You seem off today, Mage." Rolan commented; his distrustful eyes once again trained on Anders.

"And you seem to be staring a lot." Anders shot back angrily. Already Anders was somewhat regretting his decision, and having to deal with Rolan on top of that, well, Anders was not going to have a very pleasant day that was for sure. "And what is your problem with me anyway?" Anders challenged, drawing himself up to his full height.

Rolan opened his mouth, but he didn't get a chance to retort. Their other companion suddenly shouted for help, and in seconds a flurry of arrows was heading straight for them. Anders ducked to the side. Grasping his staff tightly he shot a series of blasts in the direction of the arrows. He heard one of the Wardens cry out in pain; he'd been hit. Anders scrambled to find cover. He wasn't sure what they were even fighting. Bandits? Dark Spawn? He could hear Justice in the back of his mind, trying to tell him how to fight, what to do, but Anders pushed against him and forced himself to focus solely on the battle and not the chattering voice in his head.

Crouching behind a tree, Anders looked out over the camp. Rolan was still close by, only a yard away. The other two Wardens were fighting—one of them had an arrow lodged in his thigh. It was Dark Spawn. Lots of them. Anders did his best to give the Wardens cover, but the enemy noticed him quickly. A group was closing in around him, and Anders found himself back to back with Rolan. Not the ideal fighting partner, but at least they were on the same side. Rolan was a surprisingly good fighter. They were able to whittle the group down until the Spawn were fleeing. Anders smirked. A flash of a blade caught his eye. Quick as lightening, Anders shot a blast at the Spawn lunging towards Rolan's turned back.

Rolan whipped around, seeing the now dead Spawn, then turned back to look at Anders. The Warden's eyes widened, his mouth opened, then closed into a grim line; his eyes were dark. Before Anders could ask about the sudden change in his expression it happened.

 ** _Anders!_**

It felt like he couldn't breathe, and his strength drained from him. A sharp pain lanced through him. Looking down, he saw the tip of a sword protruding from his stomach. His knees buckled. His staff fell from his hand. Rolan dispatched the Spawn behind Anders with his bow; but he had waited until it was too late. He'd purposefully waited. Anders couldn't believe it, he couldn't die here. He didn't want to.

 ** _You will not die_**. Justice told him calmly.

 _I have a hole through my stomach, which I sorta need to live in case you didn't know_. Anders was surprised he even had the strength to argue with the spirit. Then, something miraculous happened. As Anders looked down at his wound, blue light flickered from within his body, there was a searing pain making him cry out, then a tingling sensation. His hand sought the wound, but there was nothing there but smooth skin. Anders balked, both confused yet also eternally grateful.

 _I take it this will suffice as compensation for my debt to you_. Justice's voice held a smile, and Anders couldn't help but feel he was being teased.

"It's a start." Anders voice waivered, he was still recovering from the shock.

That was when he looked up. Rolan was staring down at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. The Warden murmured a prayer and drew his sword. The two other Wardens came over; they too had apparently witnessed Anders' recovery.

"Now hold on," one of the Wardens grasped Rolan's arm.

"Can't you see he's an abomination!" Rolan yelled, eyes ablaze. All color drained from Anders' face at the word 'abomination'.

"No! No! Wait!" Anders broke in quickly. "Look, there's an explanation! Justice, the Spirit, he'd been helping the Wardens too, he–" His words were cut off when Rolan ripped his arm from the other Warden.

"You admit to possession!" Rolan declared, his sword pointed at Anders' face. As scary as the situation was, Anders couldn't help but start to feel angry again. He actually dared to survive a mortal wound and suddenly he was an abomination. He tried to help a friend and look where it got him.

 ** _Alive you mean?_** Justice pointed out dryly.

 _Shut up_. "Well, yes, I mean, no . . . it's complicated!" Rolan didn't seem to be listening at all though, neither were the other Wardens. After all, he'd just confessed to possession. "He's a spirit, not a demon!" Anders tried weakly. The two Wardens looked at one another sadly before nodding to Rolan. No. Gods no.

Anders pushed himself back away from Rolan and his sword. He reached for his staff, but Rolan got to it first; kicking it out of the Mage's grasp. Rolan advanced on him. Anders glared. He wasn't going to let Rolan have the satisfaction of seeing him scared. He felt a push against his mind.

 ** _I can help_** , Justice offered. Of course Justice wasn't as worried, after all he could still use Anders' corpse as a host. **_I do not wish you dead._** Justice said angrily.

 _Then help!_

The moment he thought it he felt power surge through him. Blue light coursed through his veins. Then it was Rolan and the Warden's whose faces filled with fear. Everything started to blur and Anders' mind wandered as Justice took control. Rolan was as bad as the Templars. They all were. Damned Templars. Why couldn't they just leave him alone? They were the ones who should be locked away, those sadistic bastards. Then mages wouldn't have to be afraid; wouldn't have to look over their shoulder the rest of their lives, fearful of being accused as an abomination.

His body felt warm, and before him laid a sea of flames. Three charred bodies marked the doom of his once companions. The smell of scorched flesh burned his nose and throat. He coughed on the smoke and stench and moved away from the fire and death. Anders leaned up against a tree and took deep breaths as he thought back on what had just happened.

"What just . . . what did I . . ." His eyes were wide and he brought a hand to cover his face. He couldn't go back to Vigil's Keep now. He couldn't go back to the Wardens. Not after this. The thought made his chest clench. He would be hunted now, as an abomination. Anders slammed a fist into the tree, barely feeling the pain as the skin on his knuckles broke.

 ** _You are alive_**. Justice supplied, **_That is what matters. That you survived to complete your duties_**.

"Damn my duties!" Anders spat. It was strange though, he didn't blame Justice for what had happened. He blamed Rolan. The fire died out and that's when Anders noticed something on Rolan's body: a philter of lyrium. He was a Templar. The Templars had sent someone to infiltrate the Warden ranks to kill him. Anders growled stalking over to the body and ripping the philter from the body and threw it violently, smashing it into a rock.

Anders gathered his staff and pack, which still lay nearby. He didn't offer any final look at the remains of his companions. He headed east.

"Damn Templars."


End file.
